


I'm at a Payphone Trying to Call Home

by QueenWithABeeThrone



Category: Captain America (2011), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Four Times, Gen, Pre-Slash, Reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-26
Updated: 2012-05-26
Packaged: 2017-11-06 01:20:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/413145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenWithABeeThrone/pseuds/QueenWithABeeThrone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four times Steve and Bucky almost met in the 21st century, and one time they did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm at a Payphone Trying to Call Home

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so. I spent an entire day on this on Tumblr, ow my fingers. But yes, my muse is stuck on Steve/Bucky these days. Blame frequently rewatching The First Avenger.

“I had him on the ropes.” Steve staggers to his feet, wipes the blood from his mouth and looks up at his friend.

Bucky can’t help but smile, a little. “I know you did.”

—

_i. alcohol is a man’s best friend_

The first night after the whole Chitauri incident, Steve meets up with Tony at a bar that he keeps forgetting the name of, but comes to anyway.

He has to admit, there are some advantages to being able to stay stone cold sober even when you’ve drunk enough to possibly knock Thor out. One of them happens to be steering Tony away from ill-advised flirting with any of the (admittedly lovely) women in the bar and from doing any more shots of vodka.

“You are no fun at all,” the man complains.

“And you,” Steve sighs, “are completely drunk. Come on, let’s get you to the tower. Miss Potts is worried by now, I’m sure.”

“Why are you calling her Miss Potts, she’s,” and here the man falters, searching for the right words, “she sounds _way_ too old when you say it like that, way to kill my sex drive there, Cap.”

“That’s a little too much information there,” Steve finally says, slings Tony’s arm around him and lifts him up. “Come on.”

It’s between unloading Tony into the car and getting into the driver’s seat (because there is no way in hell that he’s letting a drunk Tony drive, no matter how hard he pleads for it, and besides he managed to get a driver's license already) that he sees a man enter the bar.

It’s weird, but from the back, he could swear that he looks a little like Bucky.

He blinks, rubs his eyes, and the man has disappeared into the bar, swept up in a sea of patrons.

“Hey,” Tony says from inside the car, and Steve thinks he can hear him tinkering with something, “get in already.”

He bites his lip— _really, Rogers_ —and gets into the driver’s seat.

—

_ii. i saw your face and i can’t erase all the things i see_

This is the first time, since everything, that he’s really felt, and excuse the cliche, _free_. Not happy, because he’s doing less living than just existing and surviving in the streets and the alleys and the shadows like a phantom, but it’s better than the deep freeze, than not knowing what year it is. It’s loads better.

If he repeats that to himself enough times, he might actually start believing it.

Still, it’s a strange feeling, to be out and about like this and not have a handler to go back to.

He turns his collar up out of habit, the winter here isn’t nearly as cold as winter in Russia, and from what he’s seen on the snatches he gets on the television, it makes people look cool.

He just so happens to glance sideways and see a man, in a cardigan and loose pants, sitting at a coffee shop with a sketchpad open in front of him.

Something about him makes him stop in his tracks and stare, though he’s not sure why. He’s not sure why he’s frozen there, torn between walking away and walking towards him.

In the end, the decision’s made for him: the man stands up, takes his sketchpad and coffee, tips the waitress, and walks away without ever meeting his gaze.

He stays there for a long time, then marches off.

—

_iii. should i just keep on chasing pavements_

Steve is starting to like the 21st century. Sure, there aren’t any flying cars yet, but technology has advanced so much that it’s only a matter of time till one is able to take to the air. And there’s parts of Brooklyn that he doesn’t even recognize, they’ve changed _that_ much in over 70 years.

That being said, it’s nice to know the corner store where he used to buy his art supplies is still there. Of course the nice old woman has passed on, but her granddaughter and her little girl take care of it.

The first time he went there in the 21st century was certainly a shock for the both of them, but Samantha and Ella Hopkins have grown used to his presence. Which is good, really, because he’s grown to like them as well. Ella's a good artist, and he has a feeling she'll grow up to be a better one, soon. It's why he's been giving her pointers.

“So, Cap,” Samantha says, a bright smile on her face, “the usual?”

“Yes, thank you,” he replies, smiling back.

“Hi, Mister Rogers!” Ella chirps.

“Hey there, little fella,” he greets, bending down to her level. “How’re you doing?”

“I’m fine,” she says. “I think I saw a friend of yours yesterday.”

“Really?” he asks, because he can’t fathom any of the Avengers coming to this store. None of them are very inclined to draw, save for Tony, who prefers a tablet, thank you very much.

“Mm-hmm! Except he looked a little different from the drawings you showed me and everything.”

“What do you mean?” he asks, but he’s starting to form a picture of who she’s talking about.

“Ella,” Samantha says, and Ella yelps and looks up at her mother. “I’m so sorry, Steve, it was just that yesterday someone came in.”

“He looked just like your friend from your drawings, only his arm was all shiny,” Ella says, her tone grave. “I think you said his name was Bucky, so I asked him if he was.”

“Really, Ella,” Samantha sighs. “I thought I told you not to just ask strangers questions like that out of nowhere. Anyway, here’s a sketchpad and pencil. Have a good day, Cap.”

“Thanks, ma’am,” he says, and not just because of the new art supplies. “You be good for your mother, all right, Ella?”

“Okay, Mister Rogers!” the little girl proclaims, not knowing just how grateful he is to her.

—

_iv. things my heart used to know_

By now, he’s pretty sure of a few things: one, that the man just keeps popping up everywhere; two, that the man is also Captain America; and three, he knew him from Before.

Before is a gaping hole in his memory, flashes of cockiness and protectiveness and gunfire and war. Before is places that are strongly, achingly familiar, yet at the same time new and unfamiliar.

He doesn’t really know many things about who he was Before, but it’s long since stopped bothering him. At least until the man entered the picture, and the little girl in the corner store asked him if he was Bucky.

Honestly, he isn’t sure.

He sees the man once more, in Brooklyn, riding a motorcycle through the traffic. For a second he’s tempted to follow him, to talk to him and tell him everything, but he doesn’t. Instead he turns around and walks away.

Sometimes he doesn’t want to face who he was Before.

—

_i. you are my signal fire_

In the end, they meet up again, not in the middle of the street, but in the middle of a battlefield.

Steve slams his shield into a HYDRA agent’s face, knocks him back into the wall and barely manages to hold it up in time to block another’s blast, but then he finds himself up against the wall without a gun or a shield, and the agent is just about to pull the trigger—

—then he collapses, blood pooling from his head.

Steve collapses to his knees, looks up and can’t help the smile that breaks out across his face when he sees who his savior is.

“I had him on the ropes,” he says, in between gasps for breath and the adrenaline rush.

Bucky smiles, his eyes haunted but his face lighting up, and tosses him his shield. “I know you did.” He walks over, pulls him up, and Steve sees uncertainty flickering across his friend’s face.

“I missed you,” he says for him, pulling him into a hug. Moments later he feels arms wrapping around him in reply, though one feels colder than the other. So there's the explanation for the shiny arm, then.

“Missed you too.”

“Jerk.”

“Punk.”

—

It’s really a coincidence that he ends up here, of all places, fighting off HYDRA agents, but it’s when the Captain is backed up against the wall that he really takes action.

He picks up the shield and the gun—at least HYDRA agents never change in their stupidity—and breaks through the wall in his head, holding the gun up and pulling the trigger before the masked man can pull his.

Captain America— _Steve_ , he’s always been Steve to him—collapses to his knees as he walks up to him, then looks up and smiles.

“I had him on the ropes,” he says, and at least that hasn’t changed.

“I know you did.”

—

_Fin_

**Author's Note:**

> I sneaked in a little reference to John's line from The Hounds of Baskerville, yes: "You, with your cheekbones, turning your coat collar up so you look cool." Granted, Bucky doesn't have the cheekbones, but I do what I want.


End file.
